


Extra: Enterprise

by Medeafic



Series: Captain Spanky Series [14]
Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: BDSM, Caning, Hair-pulling, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Riding Crop, purposefully painful fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-22
Updated: 2011-03-22
Packaged: 2017-10-17 05:04:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/173192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medeafic/pseuds/Medeafic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This extra fic is set within the <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/series/6446">Captain Spanky</a> universe and was written for the lovely LJer Orphica, for her very generous donation to the Queensland Flood Relief Auction.  Her request: There was a mention in the series where Chris often uses his safe word when Zach's caning him and I'd love to see that scene where Chris has to decide to use it for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Extra: Enterprise

**Author's Note:**

> A/N on chronology: This fic is set very early in the relationship and takes place around the time of Psychological Evaluation and This Thing We’re Doing. So, basically: half the story takes place before they’ve even had penetrative sex and they’re not officially going out yet; it’s pre-subspace, pre-sharpie and pre-cookie thing.

“There’s something we need to discuss.”

Chris pauses, toothbrush in mouth, and looks at Zach in the mirror. He’s grave and somber-eyed. Not a good sign.

So Chris spits and rinses and takes the time to make sure he doesn’t look terrified when he stands up again. Terrified of what, exactly, he’s not sure. Breaking up? Well, no, because they’re not together. Not _together_ together. So maybe some request from Zach that he can’t fulfill?

“Okay, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Zach says immediately. But despite his obvious sincerity, Chris thinks that Zach seems interested. Curious?

“I’m not scared.”

Zach takes his hand. “Let’s go sit down.”

“I’m fine right here.”

“I promise it’s nothing bad.”

Chris gives a small sigh, but lets Zach pull him out into the living room, seat him on the sofa. He sits in the armchair across from Chris, and that’s it, they must be breaking up or whatever the equivalent is in this scenario, because there’s no reason for Zach to sit all the way over there otherwise. Although Zach did promise it was nothing bad.

“I just wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Am I doing something wrong?”

“Not exactly.” Chris feels his heart sink. He’s worried before that something like this would happen, some day. He’s so inexperienced in all this kink stuff compared to Zach, so it was going to happen sooner or later – he’d screw up, or Zach would get tired of being patient with him, or— “You haven’t safe-worded.”

“What?”

“You’ve never asked me to stop.”

“Yes, I have. I asked this morning.”

“You said it was ‘too drastic’ and asked me to slow down because you were going to shoot. And you ask me to take it easier on you with the pain stuff sometimes, ask for time out until I…”

“Until you what?”

“Until _I_ stop the session. You’ve never safe-worded to stop, only to slow down.” Zach starts tapping his finger rapidly against his knee, and Chris realizes that he’s trying to find a way to put it. “Here’s the thing. Sometimes sub—uh. Sometimes people like you—”

“People _like me_? Please, make me feel like _more_ of an individual.”

Zach takes on a slightly pained expression. “I’m trying to be tactful.”

“Don’t worry about the tact, just spit it out.” People like him? Yeah. Real tactful.

“Alright. Sometimes the people I play with try to impress me by not using their safe words, even when they need to. I wanted to know if that’s what you’re doing.”

Chris feels a surge of jealousy. Perhaps the tactful approach would have been better, after all. “Maybe you’re just not tough enough on me. Maybe that’s why I haven’t safe-worded.”

Zach leans forward, his face intense, and Chris pulls back from him like it’s a dance. “You say things like that and it makes me wonder exactly how much worthwhile research you’ve actually done. I’m pretty sure you know that safe words aren’t supposed to be a _challenge_.”

 _Whatever_. “Yeah, I know. I was just…” He’s just tired of feeling like a beginner.

“What do you think they’re for, Christopher?” But Chris just shrugs. “The safe words are there so we can push the boundaries carefully. It’s not going to disappoint me if you want to stop something we’re doing. At _any_ time. You should feel free to stop whenever you want.”

“I do.” Chris is still annoyed, because – okay, _maybe_ once or twice he would have preferred to stop a few seconds before they did, when Zach was using the cane, but he’s never had to use his stop word, because Zach, like he said, always seems to get the message. Zach stops the session. So there’s been no need for Chris to use his stop word, because slowing down works fine. He’s going to explain it to Zach, but he’s already talking again.

“Because you know this – what we’re doing, it’s totally based on trust.”

“I know. I trust you.”

Zach gives a small smile. “Yes. But I have to be able to trust you, too. Trust that you’re being honest. Trust that you’re going to take care of yourself. Because we both have responsibilities here.”

“I _know_ that.”

“Well. As long as you know.” Zach stands up again, stretches. “I just wanted to get that clear between us. So – do you want a ride home?”

“No. Thank you. I’d rather walk, get some air.”

“Alright.”

The thing is, Chris thinks on the walk, it’s so early in their – not relationship, but in whatever they’re doing, whatever the hell this is – that _maybe_ he’s been trying to impress Zach. If he weren’t so goddamn _knowing_ all the time – if he’d stop with the whole – it’s just –

It’s just that it’s embarrassing, sometimes, to be such a novice. Chris has been having sex for a long, long time. He lost his virginity when he was fourteen, and he managed to do that _with_ terrible skin and gangly limbs and possibly the world’s worst haircut apart from Zach’s at the same age, which he’s seen pictures of. And now he’s a lot hotter. A lot hotter, and he’s been de-virginized for half his life; but this, with Zach – it has a tendency to make him feel like he’s fumbling around in the dark again with Melinda Hunter’s front-opening bra.

 _Like, who’s even_ heard _of front-opening bras._ The irritated thought still floats back to him after all these years, and he smiles a little, swings his bag onto the other shoulder. Well, he learned. He learned all about front-opening bras and how to kiss without slobbering everywhere and how to go down on a woman well enough to earn him a reputation at his Berkeley dorm – that had involved a lot of very pleasant trial and error with his first serious girlfriend.

 _And now here I am with my first serious_ – Chris stops, mid-thought, and runs a hand nervously through his hair. Looks around to see if there’s anyone about, because suddenly his thoughts seem much too loud.

He and Zach are just messing around. They’re not dating or anything. Just – just fucking. And even then, it’s just blow jobs and jacking each other and frotting, and Zach hasn’t even put a finger in his asshole yet, let alone his cock. But it still counts as fucking, in Chris’s mind. He’s pretty sure it counts in Zach’s mind too.

It’s three days later that Chris starts thinking he might use his stop word, because things are getting a bit beyond _drastic_ and heading into _Enterprise_ territory, despite the fact that Zach stops every time he gasps out the slow-down signal.

The cane has never been Chris’s favorite. He’s pro-floggers, because they make him tingle pleasantly long before they start to hurt, and he’s pro-riding crop, even when Zach is hard on him. Sometimes he thinks he likes them so much because they’re so traditional; a cliché, really, to think of a leather-clad dominant wielding a crop. But it makes Chris’s dick surge with lust when he thinks about it, so he goes with it.

But he’s definitely not a fan of the cane. Caning is in the “con” column. He knows Zach likes it, though, and that part of _his_ enjoyment is knowing that Chris doesn’t like it, but submits to it anyway. It’s a strange little circle of kink. Chris has never been able to get through the full number of strokes Zach suggests, which sometimes leaves him feeling like he’s failed, although at least he’s never had to _Enterprise_ out of it. That would be even worse.

But Zach always stops before it gets to that point. He gets the feeling that Zach is looking for something, or waiting for something, and hasn’t found it yet. Afterwards, though, Zach is always extremely complimentary and extremely focused on giving Chris a mind-blowing orgasm.

So those afters make up for the before.

But right now, it’s getting harder and harder for Chris to keep the afters in mind. The cane is searing into him and it’s hurting like a son of a bitch, even with the pauses that come when he pants out _too drastic_.

“Just two more, Christopher. Can you take two more?” Chris has never made it through this many strokes before. He tries to concentrate on Zach’s voice, ignore the pain, and nods, gets back into position. But the next strike lands right at the sensitive junction between ass and thigh. He curses loud and long and rolls off the bed, making blindly for the corner on his hands and knees, and coils into himself.

Zach follows, crouches down carefully and touches him on the shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Chris shakes his head, but he’s not sure whether he really means _no_ , or just, _I don’t know._

“Can you stand up?”

Chris lets Zach help him up, but it’s hard to look him in the eye right now. He feels like the worst kind of coward, curling in the corner like that, like a whipped dog.

“I’m sorry,” he says, but Zach actually shushes him, like a child. He makes Chris lie face down on the bed and starts rubbing in the first of what always seems like a million lotions, speaking softly and telling Chris how good he is. It takes a while for Chris to really believe him.

But once he’s relaxed, lulled back into reality, Zach lies down next to him and places a hand across his shoulders.

“Dude,” he says, and Chris laughs a little.

“You’re calling me ‘dude’ right now?”

Zach smiles, but he still looks serious. “Yeah. Dude. You need to _tell_ me to stop when you want to stop.”

“I did.”

“No; you flew across the room and huddled in the corner.”

It’s an affront to his masculinity. Chris scowls. He feels like sulking. “Yeah, well…you got the message.”

“I really don’t want to be in a situation where you feel like you have to _physically remove yourself_ from my proximity to get me to stop. It makes me feel like I’m not watching out for you, and…well, it doesn’t make me feel good. The safe-word is there for _both_ of us.”

Chris frowns harder into the pillow. Being with Zach is incongruous sometimes, because he thought there’d be more guy stuff in general, or at least less emotional stuff. But sometimes there’s a _lot_ of talking.  Talking about how Chris’s ass feels, how his head’s doing, how he feels about the things they do together, talking all the way through his own orgasm because Zach likes to hear it.  Talking about safe words.

“I’m sorry, okay? I said I was sorry.”

“I don’t want you to be sorry; I want you to look out for yourself.”

“I am. I will, I mean.”

Zach gives a small sigh and Chris pretends not to hear it.

Later, when he’s at home again and in bed about to fall asleep, he thinks about it again, getting to that corner as fast as he could. It bordered on panic and it wasn’t very pleasant.

“So that was embarrassing,” he mutters.

  
***

  
Something that Chris refuses to find embarrassing is what Zach has termed his new Cock Obsession.

“Just because I’m interested doesn’t mean I’m _obsessed_ , Zachary.” He’s said it at least nine times this week, although admittedly, he’s flailing his arms on the cliff-edge of Fascinated and about to fall face-first into Infatuated. And now it’s Sunday morning and all he wants to do is practice giving head and Zach is actually not _letting_ him. Chris can’t believe he’s serious. “Who says no to a blow job? Besides, you’ve been messing with dick forever. I have a lot of catching up to do.”

“You have one of your own, you know.”

“Sure, but I can’t suck that. Although I totally would if I could, just to see. Would you? I bet you would. Hey, all that yoga you do, _can_ you—”

Zach grabs Chris’s wrists and holds them firmly away from his crotch. “Please. Can we just lie here and enjoy a Sunday morning? It’s not that I don’t appreciate your efforts, but…”

“But what? Am I really terrible at it or something?”

Zach gives a little smile, but pulls him up firmly and then wraps his arms and legs around Chris so that he’s effectively immobilized.

“Cheater.”

“You know it.”

Chris sighs and shuffles a little until his head is comfortable on Zach’s shoulder. Zach is a big fan of snuggling, he’s found, which weirded him out at first, because Inflictor of Pain is not something Chris has ever expected to co-exist with Cuddle Slut. But there it is, and he’s prepared to put up with it because it’s something new he’s discovered about Zach, and every discovery has been interesting.

“But seriously. Am I terrible? Sucking dick is not something I’ve given a lot of thought to throughout my life, not from the giving end anyway, so—”

“I just want to lie here like this for a while. It doesn’t _always_ have to be about my dick, you know.”

“It could be about _my_ dick.”

“It could. But it’s not right now. Just relax. Enjoy.”

Chris sighs, and wills his semi away. He’s never been a big one for lolling around in bed. Once he’s awake, he’s _awake_ , and relaxing into someone else, cuddling, that’s always just been a prelude for sex. But he tries to settle, loosen up his muscles and let Zach have his snuggle fill.

“Why do you like it so much?” he asks after a few minutes. He feels Zach exhale into his hair as though he’s been expecting the question, and was betting with himself how long it would take.

“I just do.” His voice is amused, though, so Chris chances it again.

“Is it a dominating thing? Like, is that why you’re holding me so tight?”

Zach noses into his hair and kisses the back of his neck, turning them both a little so that Chris is even more limited in his range of movement. “If I didn’t hold you this tight, you’d squirm out of bed and go _do_ things.”

Chris sighs again.

“But you didn’t really answer the question,” he says after a few more minutes have ticked by, excruciating in their slowness.

“Jesus, you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.” Zach sounds fed-up. “I don’t know why you’re so _opposed_ to it, but okay, if you want to—”

“I’m not opposed to it, I’m just wondering why you’re so _for_ it.” And truth be told, he’s feeling a little squished and a little claustrophobic. Zach’s limbs might as well be tentacles, given how enveloped he feels. It’s not _entirely_ comfortable.

There’s a short silence, and then Zach releases him slightly, maybe an inch. It helps Chris breathe a little better, at least.

“I like it because it’s normal. It’s what norm—it’s what other people do. They cuddle. And enjoy each other’s physical company.”

“Cuddle, sure. Crush to death, not so much.” Zach starts to pull away, but Chris clutches at his arms. “Kidding! I’m kidding! Jeez, man, learn to take a joke.”

“Learn to _make_ them,” Zach growls, but he lets Chris pull his arms back around.

“You’re so touchy,” Chris murmurs, and pats his hand. He feels Zach relax into it again, and tries to ignore his own twitching body. It’s nice enough, but the whole normal idea Zach has going on – that’s slightly worrying. “What else do you think other people do?”

“I don’t know. Shop for groceries. Buy new linen. Read the paper in bed.”

“So you think other people are really boring?”

It’s Zach who sighs this time, and lets Chris go, rolls onto his back to stare at the ceiling. He puts his hands under his head. “Can we just forget it?”

Chris rolls to follow him and props himself up on his elbow, pouting slightly. “You stopped.”

“You’re clearly not interested.”

“I’m interested.” Actually, he’s been interested for a while now, in what exactly they’re doing together, because it’s not just sex, not any more, and it’s not just experimentation. Chris has started looking at Zach in a whole new way, and it’s confusing and strange and it makes him feel good inside even though he can’t quite define the feeling. “We can cuddle. I don’t mind.”

Zach rolls his eyes and doesn’t say anything.

“I’d _like_ to,” Chris tries, but it sounds unconvincing even to him. “Look, for fuck’s sake, will you stop sulking and just _snuggle_ me?” It’s so ridiculous, he can’t stop the wide grin creeping over his face, but neither can Zach, who finally deigns to look at him.

“You’re so demanding, Pine,” he says, but he opens his arms and Chris flops gracelessly into them. “Ow. Your nose is _sharp_. Like a damn _needle_.”

“You’re just too skinny,” Chris says into his clavicle. He moves around until it’s comfortable for both of them, and resolves not to talk again. Talking right now does not seem to be working out.

“Just try to focus on the contact,” Zach suggests, like it’s some mystical Universe-energy-working thing they’re doing instead of wrapping their bodies together in what really should be a precursor to sex, as far as Chris is concerned. But he puts the thought out of his mind, because this is what Zach wants to do right now, so okay. Fine. It’s not like Zach’s cock is going anywhere.

Zach’s breath evens out and Chris can see a content half-smile on his lips when he peers up. But now Chris is getting hungry. It’s past ten, and he hasn’t eaten yet, unless you count coffee, which he doesn’t. Coffee’s great and all, but he needs protein, and specifically animal protein. It’s his Sunday morning tradition – something with bacon. Usually pancakes, but sometimes just a bacon sandwich like he used to eat back in Leeds after a big Saturday night.

And then it hits him – he hasn’t spent a Sunday morning with Zach before, not like this. Usually they see each other on a Friday, or else he leaves Saturday night rather than sleeping over, because Chris has family stuff on most Sundays, but not this Sunday, because Katie and his mom are away at some psych conference and his Dad’s catching up with an old friend instead.

So maybe this is something Zach likes to do on Sunday mornings. _Snuggling Sundays._ Chris wonders whether he could get used to it. It’s not that he hates cuddling, it’s just – it’s not sex, and it’s quiet. Too quiet. He’s going to go crazy if this goes on much longer.

And at the edge of his brain, a word flutters. Should he? Could he?

How much of an asshole would he have to be to safe-word on snuggling, though? Zach might get upset, or mad, because maybe that would be a misuse of the concept. On the other hand, he did say any time, any time Chris wants to stop he should safe-word.

Chris screws his eyes shut and tries not to clench his jaw too hard. Zach’s fingers are trailing across his shoulder, so he tries to concentrate on that instead, counting out the seconds in his head, and then finally, “Okay,” Zach says. “Thanks.”

Chris opens his eyes as Zach pushes him gently away. “You’re sure?” _Shut up, you moron!_

“I’m good.” Zach does, actually, look good. Tranquil and happy. “Thank you. I know it’s not your favorite thing in the world.”

“It’s fine,” Chris says awkwardly. “I mean…it’s fine. It’s nice. You know this is the first Sunday morning we’ve been together like – like this?” What ‘together like this’ even means, he’s not sure, but that’s okay for now.

“Yeah, I know.”

They look at each other, smile a little.

“You can blow me now, if you like. Turnabout is fair play.”

Chris _does_ like.

  
***

  
Time passes; they keep doing what they’re doing; Chris is still not sure what they are. Things are starting to weigh on his mind. The fact that Zach hasn’t put his cock in Chris’s ass – it seems weird that it hasn’t happened yet. That’s what gay guys do, right? He reads up on it on the internet and orders more books from Amazon and finds out that no, not every gay man does it. So maybe Zach doesn’t like it. Although Chris is pretty sure he does, which means that maybe Zach just doesn’t want to do it with _him_. Which is totally fine; it’s not like Chris is desperate to have his ass pounded.

But it seems a shame that he not be able to experience it at least _once_.

Still, Chris hasn’t tried to clarify anything and he doesn’t want to bring it up, in case Zach starts thinking about it and decides it’s not worth it, any of this. He’s afraid Zach might have different standards for the people he dates as opposed to the people he sleeps with. Because maybe Chris isn’t queer enough, maybe that’s why Zach hasn’t fucked him, or maybe he thinks Chris is still just experimenting, or maybe he would laugh if Chris told him how he was feeling.

Or worse, if he didn’t laugh, he might feel sorry for Chris, have to let him down easy or something – something awful and humiliating.

And he doesn’t want to be humiliated again, not after Zach has seen him running to the corner and shaking and trying to hide, like he’s _afraid_. Chris is not frightened, no way, not of the stuff they do together and definitely not of Zach.

Even so, he knows that he needs to find a better way to deal with things, because it’s starting to bleed over into what they do together, makes Chris stubborn and argumentative. He can’t even use his slow-down words now, because when he wants to say them something rises up inside him, some horrible voice in his head whispers _coward_ over and over again, and he clamps his jaw so tightly shut that it makes his teeth ache the next day.

It doesn’t take long for Zach to notice, either. One day he has Chris bound up in fancy knots across the chest that pinch and rub at his nipples, and secures his arms behind him in a position that seems like it should be uncomfortable but isn’t; hands clutching his forearms, fingers grazing his elbows. Zach turns him to face the hole in the wall and Chris glares at it. Still not fixed.

Mr. Pretentious uses some Japanese term for the rope stuff because of course he can’t just say _bondage_ , and a low simmer of resentment is starting in Chris’s gut. Zach wants to use a paddle on him, studded and scary-looking when Chris first sees it, but he doesn’t say anything, just closes his eyes.

“Don’t want to look? I can blindfold you.”

“Whatever,” Chris mutters.

“Excuse me?” Zach sounds dangerous now.

“Whatever you like, Zach,” Chris amends, and ends up in a blindfold. But once Zach has pushed Chris over the end of the bed, and Chris has snapped out that yes, he can breathe, and restrained himself from saying anything further, things start to feel not great. His heart is beating too fast, or maybe he’s breathing too fast, but either way it’s unpleasant, and getting his ass whacked with studs is not helping. It feels like things are closing in on him, like the ropes are getting tighter, like the _room_ is shrinking.

But he can’t say anything, can’t even open his mouth; just breathes faster and faster through his nose, not making any noises of pain or pleasure. And then hands are on his shoulders, pulling him up, and he’s dizzy, and has to wait for a few seconds to find his feet.

Zach unties his blindfold carefully and Chris blinks at the light, his eyes stinging and sore. Zach’s face comes into focus, his own eyes dark and thoughtful.

“Is there something you’d like to say?” There’s compassion in his tone, but Chris is not looking for compassion right now.

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“You don’t think it’s too drastic?”

“ _No._ ” Chris presses his mouth together in a hard line and drops his eyes. After a moment he hears Zach sigh.

“Enterprise.”

Chris snaps his head up, but Zach is already moving behind him, grasping the bonds that tie his wrists and forearms together, and steadying him when he tries to pull away.

“What are you _doing_?”

“Stopping.”

“I didn’t safe-word!”

“No. So I did it for you. Or maybe I just safe-worded for myself. Whichever you’re more comfortable with, Christopher.” His fingers are as gentle as his voice, as gentle as his lips brushing against Chris’s ear as he speaks. But Chris starts struggling, angry at him.

“No. I don’t want to stop. If I wanted to stop I’d safe-word but I don’t so—”

Zach pulls him back against his chest, wraps his arms around him and holds him close, even though Chris is still wriggling around, trying to get away. They stay like that, Chris breathing heavily and Zach slow and controlled, until Chris begins to relax.

“We’re going to stop now. I’m going to untie you and I want you to go lie down and let me take care of you.”

“I don’t want to stop.”

“I know. But I do.”

Chris is aware that his mind isn’t spinning along at quite its usual pace, so he takes a moment to think things through. “You want to stop?” Zach nods into his shoulder and then nudges his nose behind Chris’s ear, waiting. “Why?”

“Because I’m done, for now. I’m satisfied. And I’m getting tired. I want to take care of you and then we can sleep.”

Sleep _does_ sound good. And so does stopping, now that Chris starts coming back into his skin and really feels the hurt. It’s always like this, but always surprising to him anyway. In the moment it’s painful, but the edge is still dulled by pleasure. Afterwards, when the ache sets in, is when he starts second-guessing himself. But Zach is breathing warm into his hair, and asking him to lie down, and it sounds like the best thing in the world right now.

Zach doesn’t even bother untying the ropes. He just cuts through them with shears, and later Chris wonders how expensive that rope might have been, because Zach actually bought it in Tokyo, or so he said when he began tying Chris up in knots. Like he was proud of _rope_ , for Christ’s sake. But not so proud of it that he wasn’t happy to destroy it in a few seconds just to get Chris free faster.

Chris lets him walk them both over to the bed, after the rope falls away, and tries not to make a noise as his flesh hits the bedcovers. He can see concern flit across Zach’s face, but it’s gone as fast as it comes, and he’s smoothed it over with his usual aftercare expression – capable, calm and soothing.

  
***

  
Chris has a meeting one Monday morning. It’s not an audition; they’ve already signed him, but it’ll be the first face-to-face meeting he has with the lead actress and the director.

He walks in with his brightest smile, and they all smile back. His co-star is a Hollywood-powerful actress, perky and sweet on screen and savvy as hell in real life. She understands her own brand and spends some time explaining what she’s looking for in the chemistry with him.

“So I wonder if you mind…” She gives an apologetic smile, but she’s so charming that Chris finds himself nodding and whatever-you-wanting. He’s struck suddenly by an unpleasant thought: this is how he behaves with Zach, as well.

And then she’s asking if he’d consider undressing and running the scene again in just a towel, like it calls for in the script – just to see how the sexual chemistry goes. He nods, dumbly, trying to push aside thoughts of Zach asking him to take his clothes off.

He goes down the corridor to a bathroom to strip off. The towel they’ve provided is small enough that it’s barely going to cover him, and that’s when he catches sight of the back of his thighs in the mirror. The stripes from the cane are clearly visible below the line of the towel. They’re turning black and purple now. He looks _awful_.

Chris starts to panic. He tries pulling the towel down, but it’s just too damn short. He tries to pull his briefs down – why in the hell didn’t he wear boxers today of all days? Oh, right. Because the tug of the leg bands hurt across the back of his thighs. Fuck.

He considers calling Zach, but what the hell is Zach going to do? Then he considers saying he’s shy, or modest, but he grabbed the towel happily enough when they offered it to him.

There’s a knock on the door. “Just a minute!” he calls wildly.

“Do you need anything, Mr. Pine?”

He pauses, then pulls the door ajar. “I’m just…getting into character.”

It’s the director’s PA, and she looks confused. When she catches sight of the mirror behind him, her eyes go wide.

“Fuck. I mean – sorry. Fuck.” Chris can feel himself turning brick red, and shuts the door, turns around and leans on it. There’s nothing for it. He’ll have to brazen it out, and if they ask, just…tell them he was playing field hockey last weekend or something, and got in the way of a swinging stick.

There’s another quiet knock at the door, and he pulls it open, annoyed, expecting the PA again. Yep. “Jesus, I’m coming, okay?”

She raises a hand and pushes him back into the bathroom.

“Look, honey, I don’t know what you think you’re – oh. _Oh_.” She’s holding up a larger towel, and is starting to look exasperated.

“I thought you could do with a little help, _Mr. Pine_.”

He grabs it gratefully, and winds it around his waist, turns to inspect his reflection in the mirror.

“You’re good,” says the PA, also considering his ass.

“Thanks. You didn’t have to help.”

“No. I didn’t.” She holds up her necklace, drawing his attention to it. It’s a heavy silver chain with a padlock on the end of it, and not a delicate little trinket either – a real padlock, forged from metal and coated in silver.

They lock eyes again and the PA says, “Thought we might have something in common.”

Chris’s mouth feels dry, but he nods. “Yeah. Maybe we do.”

He never finds out her name, and by the next meeting, the director has a new PA, because she was just a temp. Chris thinks about her a lot over the next week, though: about the padlock around her neck and who put it there. Collars don’t do much for Zach; in fact, he shies away from them, and he’s never wanted to put any sign of servitude on Chris, but Chris still wonders what it might be like. An ever-present reminder. Sometimes the thought makes him shiver, but sometimes his cock stirs. He ends up building an elaborate fantasy of Zach collaring him, which gives him quality masturbation material for at least a week.

But the PA herself sticks in his mind, her calm response and her willingness to put herself out there for him – some guy she’d never met. Yeah, he’s famous, but he’s sure she’s met far more famous people than him as a PA, and he was behaving like a jerk, too.

What strikes him most, though, is what that padlock symbolized. Trust. A reciprocal trust, or at least, he hopes so.

She seemed happy.

He dreams about her one night. They’re sitting in a coffee shop somewhere in Hollywood, people moving around them but ignoring Chris, his fame not even a talking point. “What’s your name?” he asks her.

“Parrot.”

He nods. In the dream it makes perfect sense.

“Actually, that’s my safe word,” she tells him.

“I have a safe word too. I don’t need to use it, though. I’m pretty tough.”

She starts laughing, and then the laughter turns into chatter and Chris is awake, listening to inane LA breakfast radio. But her laughter rings in his ears all the way to the bathroom, and he feels irritated, moody.

“Stupid. It was just a dream. She wasn’t really laughing at you.” Only – she _was_. Like she didn’t think he was tough at _all_ , or…or like he was doing something wrong.

It hits him, in the shower, that he _is_ doing something wrong. All this bullshit about not using his safe word is just machismo, just posturing, and it’s ridiculous for him to think that Zach would _ever_ think less of him for safe-wording. And the PA was laughing at him because it _is_ laughable, the idea that Zach would think he’s less of a man just because he wants to stop hurting.

He starts toweling off, inspects his bruises in the mirror. The ones the PA saw faded long ago, but Zach has layered over them with new stripes. They’re multicolored now; yellow and brown overlaid with purple and red. They’re a sign, too, like her necklace. He doesn’t have a padlock around his neck, defining this thing between him and Zach, but the marks are more appropriate, maybe. Blurred lines.

 _Alright_ , he thinks as he dresses. _Maybe I’ll test it out, see how it goes._ The universe probably won’t implode just because he says the word _Enterprise_.

But the next time he sees Zach they don’t do anything major together that would require safe-wording, which he finds a little disappointing, but on the other hand, it’s still _fun_ , because it always is with Zach.

He takes his time building Chris to orgasm three times before letting him come, smiling each time Chris asks permission and doesn’t get it. It’s frustrating, but fun, always fun, and afterwards, Chris suggests the cane.

“I thought maybe we’d possibly do some pain stuff today.”

“You thought maybe we’d possibly, did you?” Zach yawns, stretches. “Aren’t you tired out?”

“Well. I’m tired. But not exhausted. Besides, you like the pain.”

“I like a lot of things, Christopher.” Zach rolls over on to his stomach and eyes him. “And exhaustion is not the aim. Besides, since when are you so anxious to get your ass caned?”

“Maybe I’m getting used to it.”

Zach gives him a curious look. “I feel like you’re up to something. What are you up to?”

“I’m not _up_ to anything. I just thought you might like it.” It would probably make things easier if he just told Zach that he’s ready to use his safe word, but for some reason Chris wants it to be a surprise. He doesn’t want to talk _again_ about how he hasn’t used it before and why. And besides…maybe he’s _not_ ready.

But today is not the day to find out. Zach is kind but implacable: no ouchy stuff today. He’s not in the mood. That’s what he says, anyway, but Chris is left with the distinct impression that Zach doesn’t want to play that way because he doesn’t trust Chris to safe-word if he has to. _When_ he has to.

It’s frustrating.

  
***

  
Finally the stars align. Chris is feeling antsy because they haven’t done anything for over a week, not even gotten together for coffee or dinner because Zach has been away, or Chris had meetings that dragged on into the early evening. Last time they saw each other, Zach fucked him for the first time, and it was _incredible_ , if somewhat painful. Chris wants to do it again. And soon he’s going away for a while to Ohio to shoot some pick-ups, so he insisted they get together before he goes.

This time, he’s determined to safe-word for Zach and _show_ him he can trust Chris to take care of himself.

Chris pulls his clothes off in record time and goes to shower when told. When he returns, he stands in the middle of the room, waiting. Zach, of course, stays clothed, walks around him like he’s admiring a statue in a museum.

“Today we’re going to take it in turns.” Zach runs a hand down his back, neck to ass, and Chris arches under his hand.

“I get to do stuff to you, you mean?”

Zach makes an amused noise. “No. But you get to choose what I do to you – well, some of the things. We’ll take it in turns. You can even go first, because I’m so nice to you. Right?”

“Right. Very generous of you.”

“It is. So you can make a suggestion, and then it’s my turn, and so on until we reach a natural conclusion, whatever that might be. So – what would you like?”

What he’d like versus what he wants. Chris swallows. He wants to ask for the cane, so he can show Zach that he’s learned now, but he doesn’t want the cane without being worked up by something else before, preferably the riding crop, because the paddle doesn’t have the same kind of sting, although if he asks for the crop, Zach will think he’s just asking for it because it’s his favorite—

“You’re _really_ over-thinking this,” Zach murmurs.

“The riding crop.” Screw it. He _does_ like it.

“How many times?”

This is weird. He’s like a kid suddenly being allowed to call his own bedtime. “Twelve?” It comes out like a question, like he’s not sure this is really real.

“Okay.”

Last time he got to choose like this, he ended up with caned Zs on his ass. Chris feels like he’s passing a milestone here – he can take a lot more strokes from the crop than he could in the beginning. It’s satisfying and while it’s not exactly personal growth, he does feel like he’s learned a lot so far, about himself. About Zach. His comfort with what’s happening between them has only increased the more intense things become.

Chris bends over the bed, and waits.

And waits.

He glances over his shoulder at Zach, who is leaning against the doorway, looking at him, swinging the crop from his fingertips.

“No,” he says.

Chris stands again, feeling awkward. “Did I do something wrong?”

“I don’t want you on the bed.”

“Oh. You didn’t say. I just assumed.”

Zach comes closer, closer, runs a hand into Chris’s hair and gives a small tug. “Yes. You assumed.”

Chris tips his head back, following Zach’s fist in his hair. “Sorry.”

They stand frozen for several minutes, and Chris closes his eyes under Zach’s gaze. It’s silent until Chris wonders if he’s supposed to be saying something or doing something. “Um. Where do you want me?”

“Right now, I want you here like this. And when I let you go, I want you over at the dresser, looking into the mirror for me.”

“Okay.”

“Do you like being obedient?”

Chris opens his eyes a little, looks up through his lashes at Zach. “I don’t understand the question.”

“Does it make you feel good when you do what I tell you?”

“I guess – yes?”

“You don’t sound very sure.” Zach leans in and presses his lips carefully to the corner of Chris’s eyelid, grips his hair harder until Chris flinches.

“I like it,” he says between clenched teeth. Zach is pulling his hair incrementally tighter every few seconds. It’s making his eyes sting with tears, and if it goes on much longer, he won’t need the cane to safe-word. His tears are threatening to spill over into Zach’s waiting lips. And fuck that; Chris Pine does not cry, and especially not for Zach.

But Zach lets him go just as he opens his mouth to say _too drastic_.

“Over there, please.” Zach shoves him towards the dresser, actions belying his polite words, and Chris stumbles, but follows directions. “I like it when you do what you’re told, too.”

“What if I don’t this time?” Chris can’t help himself, even as he positions himself, gripping the sides of the dresser and looking up at Zach in the mirror. He puts on his most impertinent grin, the one he’s learned makes Zach want to wipe it off his face. But Zach stays away, across the room, raises an eyebrow.

“I don’t think that’s a concern right now, is it?”

“But what if it were?” For some reason, he wants to push back, wants to see how far he can go before Zach has had enough. “What would you do?”

Zach comes up next to him and leans down to whisper right into his ear. “First of all, I would rescind the offer to let you choose today. And after that…” He straightens, smiles.

“Would you hit me with the cane?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

“You don’t punish a masochist by hurting them,” Zach tells him, his tone sensible. Patronizing.

Chris wrinkles his nose. Masochist? “Then what _would_ you do?”

“I can tell you what I _wouldn’t_ do,” Zach says, finally snappish, and Chris feels smug. He’s managed to needle a reaction out of him. “I wouldn’t let you come, that’s for sure.”

 _Well, fuck._ “I’ll be good.”

“You’d better be.”

Chris kind of expects Zach to use a heavy hand after that conversation, but he doesn’t. He gets to watch in the mirror. It’s good and not so good; Zach fakes him out on the last stroke, stops before it hits, but Chris bucks anyway, expecting pain that never comes. Zach gives a supercilious little smirk, and Chris mutters, “Fucker.”

“You should know by now you can’t goad me into things.” Chris feels Zach’s hand run lightly over his tender ass, and hisses.

“Your turn,” he says, and gasps when Zach slaps his right butt-cheek.

“I don’t need you to remind me of the rules, Christopher. So. My turn. What do I want? Hmm.” He pretends to think about it for a few minutes, whispering to himself and pretending to make up his mind a few times before Chris can’t help rolling his eyes. Zach grins. “I know what I want.”

Finally. The cane.

But Zach is moving behind him, between Chris’s legs. “Why do you look so disappointed?” he asks. “I thought you were all cock-happy at the moment.”

Chris brightens a little at that. “That’s cool. I just thought you might use the cane.”

“Did you, now?” Zach kicks Chris’s legs open wider. “No. And you’re not getting my dick either. Not yet, anyway.”

Chris glares at him in the mirror, but Zach just laughs and pushes him down towards the dresser top, a steady hand between the shoulder blades. “Right now, this is about what _I_ want. If you want cock so bad, you can ask for it next, when it’s your turn. Just stay still now, and hands off your own. Oh – and don’t shoot. If you do, that’s the end of the session. And also, I’ll make you clean off my dresser with your tongue.”

“You’re so mean,” Chris sighs. But it’s fine. He’s not going to come without any friction on his own dick.

When Zach unexpectedly kneels behind him, Chris twists to look. “Hey, what— _ow!_ ”

“I believe I told you to stay still.”

The throb dies slowly from the vicious pinch Zach’s given him on his inner thigh, but when Chris feels a rough tongue on his balls, he almost jerks around again. He settles for a whispered _fuck_ , and then, as Zach’s tongue finds its path between his ass cheeks and swirls across his hole, _Jesus fucking Christ Zach what the fuck are you doing is that even aughh_ , and Zach snorts. The flush of warm air over his twitching flesh is enough to make Chris’s dick jump, and what do you know, maybe he _is_ in some danger of coming.

Chris fights the urge to squirm – whether away from or further onto Zach’s tongue, he’s not sure, but this is weird. It’s not like he’s never had it done to him before, but that was just one time, when he was drunk enough to find the idea hot, and the girl he was with couldn’t stop talking about how amazing his ass was. But it was still nothing like this; that was all teasing and kissing. Zach, on the other hand, means goddamn fucking _business_.

And while he was kind of grateful that girl was just a one-night stand deal, so he didn’t have to be reminded of his own asshole every time he looked at her mouth, he doesn’t think that’s going to be a problem at _all_ with Zach. With Zach, he’s pretty damn conscious of his butt all the time anyway.

And besides all that? It feels fucking _great_. His cock certainly agrees, straining up towards his belly, wet at the tip. Chris rests his head on the dresser and looks at it, at Zach beyond it, and has to close his eyes.

But just as his dick is pulsing in a pleasant, regular rhythm, and he’s panting and wriggling round, trying to get even more of Zach’s tongue inside him, Zach stops, stands up and shoves two fingers in instead of his tongue. Chris yelps and arcs up, scrabbling at the edges of the dresser. “Jesus! A little warning would be nice.”

“Nice?” Zach chuckles. “Sure, I’ll keep that in mind. Now look at me in the mirror. I want to watch your face.”

He’s using minimal lube, and it feels uncomfortable, even stings sharply once or twice and makes Chris wince, but he knows that’s what Zach is looking for. Hoping for. Three fingers, abruptly, and Chris grunts, clenches his teeth.

“I wonder how much you could take.”

Chris meets his gaze in the mirror, worried, and Zach looks back at him speculatively.

 _Oh, God,_ Chris thinks. _Please don’t try to get your whole damn fist up there. I’m freaked out enough just having your tongue in my ass._ And Zach smiles as though he knows what Chris is thinking. He jerks his fingers out, and Chris barks one short noise of pain.

“Okay. Your turn.” Zach wipes his fingers on a Kleenex and then leans in towards him, as though he’s going to kiss him, and Chris ducks.

“Ew. You’re not kissing me until you go wash your face and brush your teeth.”

“Oh, really?”

“Dude. I will safe-word on your ass so fast you won’t know what hit you.”

“You’re so cutely vanilla sometimes, Christopher.”

“There’s nothing vanilla about hygiene.”

Zach grabs his face between his hands and laughs as Chris tries to struggle away, his fingers still firmly clamped to the dresser. “Omigod, _stop it_!” he splutters. “ _Fine_ , you fucking—” He takes a deep breath to scream _goddamn Enterprise, you asshole_ , but Zach releases him, and heads to the bathroom, still laughing.

“Don’t you dare move,” he throws casually over his shoulder, and then takes _forever_ cleaning himself up.

But Chris is pleased with himself, because he nearly actually did it, he nearly said it, and he’s going to. He can feel it; he’s actually going to do it.

So when Zach comes back, he says, “I want the cane.”

But Zach shakes his head. “You wanted me to go brush my teeth. I did. And now it’s my turn again.”

By this stage, Chris thinks, he should have realized that was coming, but the unfairness of it still howls in his soul. “That wasn’t a sex thing! It doesn’t count! You didn’t tell me—”

It’s pointless arguing, especially with Zach looking so self-satisfied, and pretending to check his watch like he’s just waiting for Chris to wind down. Chris ends his rant with a loud, frustrated growl, and then drops his head to the dresser.

“Fine,” he says, his voice muffled into the wood. “What do you want to do?”

“I thought I might cane you for a while.”

Chris lifts his head. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“But that’s what I wanted to do.”

“Yeah. I’m being nice.”

Chris smiles.

“One question, first, though.”

Chris frowns.

“Why are you so desperate for the cane these days? You keep bringing it up.”

Chris stares at him in the mirror. “You’ll see,” he says eventually. “You’ll see why.”

Zach seems to make up his mind. “Alright. But for future reference, I think this relationship can only take one participant being mysterious at a time, and I have dibs.”

This relationship? So Zach does see it as a relationship? Chris feels a little lightheaded and suddenly can’t stop his maniacal grinning.

“Jesus, man, what is _with_ you today? You look like the Joker or something. Tone it down a bit.” But Zach smiles back, shaking his head, and then holds up the cane. “How many? You can choose.”

It’s like the first time, Chris thinks fondly. The first time Zach hit him with the riding crop, he got to choose then, too, and Zach chose for the cane. He’d picked six, settled for four. “Eight.”

“You never make eight.”

“No, but one day I might.”

The first strike is hard, only half as hard as it sometimes is, but Chris can’t help muttering _ow ow ow_. Zach gets to three and the mood changes. This time he swings with a wide arc from the shoulder, Chris can see in the mirror, and the cane whips into his flesh like a blade.

Chris falls forward on the dresser, squeezes his eyes shut, and curses loudly.

“No. Get up. I want to see your face.”

His face, his face, Zach always has to see his fucking face, watch the expressions flowing over it. Chris forces himself up, but he can’t meet Zach’s eyes in the mirror. It’s usually around now that he asks for a slow-down, but this time he’s not doing that. This time will be different.

Zach waits another second to see if he’s going to speak, but then shrugs and hits him again. Watching it in the mirror, Chris understands now why it hurts so much. Zach holds back with most other things, but the cane? He’s using every ounce of strength he has.

And then the pain kicks in, and Chris wails, clutches at the dresser, tries to remember again why the hell he’s doing this, oh right, oh _right_ – “Enterprise.”

It slides out of him like a sigh, but Zach hears him and drops the cane at once, pulls him over to the bed and wraps him up in arms and legs and Chris has never been so happy to snuggle in his entire life.

Zach’s voice is soothing, although it takes a while for the pain to die and for his words to start making sense again.

“—so proud of you. You’re so brave.”

“I wanted to show you. I wanted to show you that you can trust me. I’ll stop when I need to from now on, I promise.”

“I know. I know you will.” And Zach kisses him, tasting of toothpaste. “Let me take care of you now.” Chris nods. He likes the aftercare stuff as much as everything that comes before it, these days, although at first it made him feel weak. But if he’s man enough to use his safe word, he’s definitely man enough to have unguents massaged into his ass.

Zach rolls him over on to his stomach and runs a gentle hand over his back, the sore flesh of his buttocks, and Chris inhales sharply, tries to breathe out slowly and wait out the throbbing.

“You can do it again if you like,” he says. “What you did before.” He can’t even say it, but Zach seems to get it.

“I will, sometime. You seemed to like it.”

“You could do it now.”

“We’ve stopped.” But Zach sounds intrigued.

“Yeah…but I didn’t come. Neither did you.” Chris bumps his ass upward, into Zach’s waiting hand. “Ow. And I’m still tender, right? I mean, we stopped the pain stuff, but…”

“Mm. I guess we could.”

“Jeez, I’m sorry the offer of an orgasm is so anathema to you.” Chris props himself up on his elbows and looks over his shoulder at Zach, grinning. The look Zach gives him is dirty with promise, and it makes him half-hard again instantly. “Fuck, Zach. Come on. Please?”

“Ask me for what you want.”

“You know what I want.”

“Ask me, or you’re getting aloe vera and an early night.”

Chris groans, drops his face back into the pillow. “Use your mouth on me, like you did before.” For God’s sake, why does he find this so embarrassing? He’s always been fine whispering filthy things into female ears, but Zach makes him feel so…

“You told me, before I fucked you last week, that you’d had a tongue on your ass before. Were you lying?”

“No. But it was not…like that. Not like that at all.”

Zach slithers up against him, and Chris becomes aware of how very naked he is, and how very clothed Zach still is. “You want me to get my tongue inside you, huh? You like that?”

“Jesus _fuck_ , yes.”

“You’re so adorable when you blush like that. All over your shoulders, even.”

Chris shoves at Zach with his whole body. “Shut up. And FYI, I think I might be able to shoot if you do that again. I mean, without jacking off or anything.”

“You sound so proud of yourself. But you haven’t done it yet.”

“Then make me.”

“Nah. You want it so bad, you can work for it some other time, especially now you’ve sacked up and started using your safe word. Now I don’t have to hold back so much.”

“Oh, my God. What have I done?” Chris groans dramatically, rubs his face into the pillow, but he’s just kidding, and hey, at least the rimming offer is on the table for the future.

“So what finally clicked for you?”

“Just started thinking it out, after a conversation.”

“What conversation?” Zach looks puzzled.

“Something a little bird told me.” Chris glances up at him, hopes he looks seductive rather than exhausted. “If you’re not going to rim me, can you at least fuck me?”

“Ask and you shall receive.” Zach lets him stay on his stomach, a pillow under him to lift his hips higher, and takes some time rubbing over the cane marks until Chris’s ass feels tingly all over.

It’s strangely tender, this time, compared to the last. Zach fingers him for ages, until Chris makes a petulant demand, and he’s still expecting pain, but there is none, not this time. Zach slides into him like butter, and Chris lets out a long, satisfied breath that makes Zach chuckle in his ear.

“Good?”

“I didn’t know…” Chris is blissed-out, tries to get his head together. “I thought it would hurt for a while still.”

“It didn’t have to hurt the first time, but you asked for it that way.”

“Let’s never listen to me again.”

Zach laughs again, ends in a growl, and starts moving. Chris can hear his breath come faster in his ear, the rhythm changing as he gets closer, and helps by rocking back and forth.

“It’s so good. I should have done this a long time ago.” His cock is coming along nicely, working on a wet patch underneath him already and getting a good amount of friction from the pillow below.

“Yeah? How about this?” Zach gets up suddenly, pulls his hips higher, thrusts harder.

“Yeah, that’s good too.”

“Hm. Wrong angle. Try—”

“Whoa, whoa, _whoa_!”

“Whoa as in stop?”

“ _No!_ Whoa as in holy _fuck_ , please keep doing that!”

It doesn’t take long, not once Zach gets a hand on his dick as well. Chris almost feels guilty shooting all over the pillow, but Zach has spares, and whatever is going on in his ass right now is definitely much more important than bedding. Afterwards, Zach wants to snuggle again, and Chris doesn’t care at all, would even sleep on the defiled pillow if Zach wanted him to (he doesn’t).

“Jesus, man. That was _amazing_.” Chris worms into his arms, turns over so he can feel Zach’s soft cock on his butt, and hooks their legs together. Zach has spent some time tending to Chris’s sore ass, and it feels pleasantly numb now, but Zach is tired.

“This is just going to make your Cock Obsession worse,” he yawns into Chris’s neck.

“Yeah.”

“You’re admitting to it now?”

“Hell, yes. I’m man enough.”

“You certainly are. I have a feeling you’re gonna wear me out.”

Chris laughs. He feels fantastic. Everything seems clear now. He got caned, he safe-worded, he got fucked in the ass every which way from Sunday, and he’s never felt so tough in his whole damn life. He could do _anything_ today.

In fact, he’s about to roll over to ask Zach if maybe they could be boyfriends, make it official, but the steady breathing on the back of his shoulders and the way Zach’s arms have relaxed around him tell him that Zach’s asleep.

The Boyfriend Talk will have to wait.


End file.
